


Charlotte

by Flanker27_UK



Series: Strike's Shepherd [4]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-01-27 19:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21397522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flanker27_UK/pseuds/Flanker27_UK
Summary: Strike continues to recover from the Viking BombCharlotte is his Angel
Relationships: Charlotte Campbell Ross/Cormoran Strike
Series: Strike's Shepherd [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1486892
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	1. My Angel

Cormoran lay back on the pillow, his arm across his forehead, Charlotte was curled against his side murmuring softly in her sleep. Her arm was draped across his chest, breasts pressed deliciously into his side. He was satiated, relieved that love making certainly hadn’t suffered following his injury and they could still drive each other to the heights of ecstasy. He was truly in love.

Everything was well with the world.

Charlotte was amazing, his somewhat neurotic, on and off girlfriend had really stepped up to the plate for him, when he had really needed her.

When she had walked into the ward in Selly Oak he had been at a pretty low ebb. His physical fitness, which he had always been so proud of, wrecked. His career in the Army? Well he wouldn’t be passed fit for operational duty ever again.

She had appeared like an Angel and sat on his bed in Selly Oak and all the angst & anger of their past had vanished like they had never happened. His comrades in the ward had sat open mouthed as she touched his face, kissed his cheek, and leaned in to kiss him softly on the mouth. He still replayed those wonderful moments in his head:

“Oh Bluey, what on earth have you been up to?”

The hugging, holding, passionate kisses

The promise to be there for him from now on

Her family had kept the information from her about his injury, until a spiteful comment from Jago Ross had sent her looking for information.

He had suffered the ribald comments from his fellow invalids,

“Blimey where’s she hidden her stick and dog?”

“Bloody hell, what’s she see in you then, can you lick your eyebrows or summat?” 

Strike had grinned at that one, he was inordinately proud of the levels of rapture he could drive Miss Campbell to with his lips and tongue.

She had been as good as her word, she moved into a suite in the Hyatt Regency and visited constantly. Bringing him gifts daily and, surprisingly to Strike, she had gone out of her way to be friendly to the other soldiers in the ward. Sneaking in beer and whisky. Getting things for the ones who had no family close to assist, being an all-round wonderful person. Even chatting with the Tea-lady, Lottie, laughing that they had the same name! By the time Strike had moved to Headley court there were 8 full time members of her fan club, Strike and the other seven in the ward!

Headley Court had been hard, brutal even. Strike had thought basic training had been tough but it was nothing compared to the rehab he’d had to go through. The phased reduction in painkillers had been much more severe than he’d thought, he’d never realised how dependent on them he’d become. This was tied together with hours of training to rebuild his fitness, exercises to his damaged leg and therapies to build up the muscle in his stump so that it would tolerate a prosthetic.

He’d cursed and swore at Lyndsey, his physio and rehab trainer. A small, wiry, girl with a wicked tongue in her head that would match Strike profanity for profanity.

But she knew what she was doing, driving him to improve day by day, mastering the new skills he’d need, it had took him days to figure out how to get up from a chair and stand on one leg, it was like being a baby again and having to learn it all from scratch. They had hung onto each other howling with laughter in the session where she was trying to teach him how to take a pee while standing on one leg. Spluttering at her offer to:

“Get it out for you, can’t be much bigger than my kid brothers and he’s only 8”

“You wouldn’t want it as a Stye on your eye”

Over the months he improved gradually, spending hours in the Gym on weights and exercise machines, his body tone returned, his arms & shoulders reverted to their previous superb condition, maybe even better with the additional work he was doing hauling himself around the place.

Then mastering a temporary prosthetic, no foot at first, just to strengthen his stump and adjusting to the feel of things. Endlessly driving himself up and down stairs, obstacles and training equipment until he was starting to master the skills he’d need. Always refusing a stick, he was determined to walk unaided.

Then, fitted with his custom prosthetic, learning it all again with an inflexible foot sticking out in front, ready to trip him up at the slightest chance, Lyndsey laughing at his ever more inventive swearing

“I don’t think the leg has a Mother Corm, and if it did I doubt if she would have relations with a pig to produce it!”

Finally, in the Dr’s office signing all the discharge paperwork, out of Hospital at last!

Long term medical leave for the time being, the offer of a room in Aldershot Garrison, but Charlotte had already asked him to move in with her while he figured out what he did next

_What do I do next? I can’t stand the thought of being behind a desk and that’s all the Army can offer me. Maybe a consultant or start my own business? One thing for sure ‘Lotte has been wonderful we’ve had some amazing times in the past and the last 9 months has been unbelievable. Should I ask her to marry me? Fuck, not much of a catch am I, but God she is just so wonderful, I don’t know how I can live without her. _

Charlotte waiting for him, his meagre kitbag containing all his possessions, a huge bunch of lilies, which he gave to Lyndsey, both hugging like their life depended on it, as Cormoran’s indeed had. Lyndsey blaming a cold for her runny nose and eyes

“Go and get out of here you hairy monster, go and give the world hell”

Shaking hands with Charlotte

“Look after this one he’s a good one, you don’t get them often, but when you do treasure them!”

Charlotte with a wan smile

“I know, I’ve known since we were 19”

A hair raising drive to London and her Bayswater Flat, with a lift thank goodness

The door closing behind them

Looking at each other with desperate passion in each other’s eyes

Falling into the huge, comfortable, bed

The first day of their new life together. 


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte tries to understand what happened to Cormoran

“Bluey, Bluey. Wake up, Wake up”

Cormoran startled awake, not knowing where he was, this clean quiet room, the soft light of early morning clashing with the vivid dream that had been wracking his mind and body.

“It’s OK, you’re safe, you’re here with me, oh my love you’re safe here with me”

Charlotte was holding his hand, running her fingers through his hair. Cormoran was shaking, soaked with sweat, even though the room was cool. His staring eyes looked at the vision of loveliness next to him, control returning, he forced himself to count his breaths, in, out, slowly and evenly, repeating the mantra in his head that the psychologist had taught him:

_It’s not real_

_I’m safe_

_They can’t hurt me_

_It’s not real…._

Charlotte saw comprehension returning to her beloved’s features, he took in her worried face, the skimpy sleep top she was wearing, the soothing stroking of his head.

Several more deep breaths

“Sorry love, was I bad?”

“Pretty bad, you were shouting “Anstis, Rifle”, and lots of other stuff that I couldn’t follow. Was it the same dream again? Can you talk to me about it? Would it help?”

“Charlotte, you wouldn’t want to hear about it, the last few days in Helmand was pretty full on & Rich and I had a grim time of it”

“Try me, maybe if you shared I could help you, I’d like to understand”

She lay her head against his chest hearing his heart thundering away, gradually slowing as he gained full control again.

“Corm, this is the third time this week, I feel so helpless, I see and hear you in what looks like agony and I can’t do anything for you”

Strike felt tears running from her face onto his chest, ‘_Oh God Charlotte I wish you could help, I’m there all the time, in the ditch with Rich, running out of rounds and 100’s of Taliban closing in’_

He began to speak slowly, hesitantly,

“OK, let me try.

We were about an hour out from Bastion returning from an investigation when we got ambushed….”

Charlotte rolled onto her stomach, lying on Strike’s broad chest and watched the love of her life try and explain the hell he’d been through, he was staring into space, seeing it all again, this time with his conscious mind, everything crystal clear.

Except in the dream it wasn’t like reality, Will Shepherd never turned up, and Rich & himself were back to back, surrounded by insurgents, their Kalashnikovs all spitting flame,

Strike screaming “Where are you Will? Where are you?”

That was when he usually woke up either spontaneously, or by Charlotte, as he was shouting so much in his sleep 

“So actually this SAS guy saved you both, but in your dreams he never does?”

“Yeah, Rich and I owe our lives to Will Shepherd”

“That’s what you’re shouting Bluey, I know now, you keep shouting for Will Shepherd, I thought you were on about Tribesmen or goatherds”

“Yes, it’s like I have unfinished business or something”

It was like a flash going off in his head,

“Of course”

“What?”

“I think I need to do something, and as a start I would like to get together with Rich Anstis, would you fancy going to dinner at Richard’s with me? He keeps asking & I keep putting him off because, well I know you don’t like kids much and they have two little ones”

“Don’t be silly Bluey, of course I’d like to meet this Rich, and if you think it might help you we must go 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter to get them to dinner with the Anstis's
> 
> Charlotte is so in love with Cormoran and desperate to help him
> 
> I'm afraid though it's not going to last.....


	3. Dinner with the Anstis’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike visits his old colleague  
Plans are made  
He's honest with Charlotte

**Dinner with the Anstis’**

“You can have the rest of the night off Reza, we will get a Taxi home”

“Thanks Ma’am”

Charlotte linked arms with Cormoran and gave it a squeeze as the E Class pulled smoothly away and vanished into the early summer evening rush, its driver glad to be able to get home to his wife and young baby. He was pleased for his boss, his life had been much simpler since she had settled down with the injured ex-soldier. Reza admired the man who didn’t have the airs and graces he experienced with the rest of Miss Ross’ family and friends, if he would just support a decent team like Tottenham then he would be an almost perfect employer!

The two had become quite friendly, sharing a smoke in the garden of the Mews property Miss Ross lived in. Surprisingly they had quite a bit in common, Strike knew the area of Iraq that was Reza’s home town and agreed at the beauty and tranquillity that the place engendered. All gone now, unfortunately. Reza had been a British Army interpreter and, with what he regarded as the best good fortune of his life, had met the nurse who was now his wife, while interpreting for her at the clinics the British Army had set up following the wars that had wrecked his beautiful country.

He’d been surprised when he’d been driving Strike to hospital and let loose a stream of invective, in Arabic, at a courier cyclist who had jumped the lights causing him to stand on the brakes. He’d turned to Strike who was sitting next to him, who always preferred to ride up front, and was always a nervous passenger, something Reza had come to understand when Strike had explained why he walked with a limp.

“Sorry Sir, I nearly had that idiot”

“No problem Reza, and I’m sure if his mother had done that it would have been with an ugly pig”

Strike had responded, in fluent Arabic

An amazed stare had come across the driver’s face at the unexpected comment from his employer, a beep from behind got his attention back to the road and they’d moved off.

“I didn’t know you spoke Arabic sir”

“It was a very useful skill in the Military Police Reza. You’re Shi’ite aren’t you? From your name do, you speak Farsi also?” The second sentence delivered faultlessly in the language of Iran.

Strike had laughed as the drivers jaw almost hit the floor

“I’ve always found languages easy to learn, I made it a policy to be able to at least get by in the local language wherever I was based. Mind you I drew the line when I was based in Cardiff for a while, Welsh didn’t appeal to me”

“So how many..?”

“I’m Fluent in Arabic, Farsi, German and Latin, passable in Greek, French and Russian I can get a beer and a meal in Spanish. For what use it is Latin is my favourite”.

That had produced a low whistle from the driver

“Come back Bluey, where are you?”

Strike looked at the amazing woman who was looking at him with concern in her eyes

“Sorry ‘Lotte I was back in Iraq for a while then, did I tell you that I found out that I had visited Reza’s hometown while I was on Op’s out there?”

“Really, small world”

Strike got the impression that his girlfriend didn’t even know what country her driver was from, she still had the British Upper Class disdain for servants, an attitude that rankled with Strike, he’d gone out of his way to get to know the staff that Charlotte kept, in her opinion, as no more than her entitlement.

“You shouldn’t really fraternise with the servants you know Bluey, you have to maintain the distance”

“Whatever you say”

_Hmmm I have had far better conversations with Reza & Lucy, the housekeeper, than with most of the braying donkey’s you seem to think are friends_

“We’re here, I’m pretty sure this is the house, It’s been a while, don’t forget what I warned you about Richard’s injury, he went through a lot in Helmand”

Charlotte gave him a look that was full of condescension

“Of course”

They walked up to the freshly painted blue door & Strike was raising his hand to knock when the door swung open and a grinning Rich Anstis stood there

“Mystic Bob! You made it at last, and you must be Charlotte”

Richard stepped forward and hugged his old friend and his somewhat glacial girlfriend, who, Strike could tell, was using every effort not to stare at the puckered and pinkly damaged side of his ex-comrades face.

“Come in, Come in, Helly has just got the little one to sleep but Timothy Cormoran wanted to stop up and see his Godfather, for the 3rd time” Strike ignored the little dig from Richard.

He scooped up the small child who was hiding behind him

“Here’s your Uncle Cormoran and Aunty Charlotte Tim, the man I told you about who saved your daddies life”

Strike caught the intake of breath from his partner, he smiled and Charlotte raised an eyebrow, her way of saying “_We’ll talk about this later!_”

A small, plump, bubbly woman came running down the stairs and hugged Cormoran for all she was worth

“Cormy, it’s so good to see you, how are you? It’s been too long, how’re you coping with your new leg? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

_I think she must breathe through her ears, she never stops talking long enough to draw breath anyway!_

Strike grinned at his friend’s wife

“Helly, Helly let us get through the door, we’ve got all evening to catch up, but firstly this is Charlotte, ‘Lotte this is Helly, who needs a medal for putting up with Rich!”

“Lovely to meet you at last Helly, Bluey doesn’t share much, it’s so nice to meet his friends”

_Thank goodness, she’s turning the charm on tonight_

Strike had plenty of experience of Charlotte cutting people dead when she thought they were beneath her, which usually included all of his old friends, the tension between her & Ilsa when they had met at University had been frigid to say the least

_“She’s using you Corm, she’s a manipulative bitch and will hurt you, please don’t get too serious will you?” _

He’d only met with his old friends as a foursome with Charlotte once since his injury and instead of the free flowing banter and chat and a pleasant evening he’d been hoping for it had ended early with Charlotte claiming a Migraine and not talking to Cormoran for the rest of the night. Though the next morning she had been back to the caring, loving, woman she’d been since Strike’s injury.

He hads approached this evening with a considerable amount of trepidation, he needed to get Anstis on board with something he was planning, which he hadn’t yet shared with Charlotte, but it was something he’d only recently realised was key to perhaps resolving the recurring nightmares plaguing him.

His fears were groundless, they had a really nice evening, Helly was an excellent cook and the wine flowed, as did the chat, it really helped that Rich and his wife were somewhat in awe of the “nobility” so treated Charlotte with the deference that she always felt was her due.

Coffee was served, and cigarettes lit.

“Would you like to come and see the children Charlotte? They are little angels when they’re asleep”

Strikes eyebrows raised at his girlfriend’s ready agreement, this was way out of character. She leaned down and kissed his cheek whispering”

“I’ll give you a few minutes with Rich, I know we’re here for some reason”

She never ceased to amaze Strike.

“Rich, how you fixed for a couple of days leave, there is something I think we need to do” 

After much kisses and laughter they finally grabbed a Uber home Charlotte snuggling into Cormoran’s side.

“Did you sort what you wanted to do with Richard?”

“Mmm, I’ll tell you at home”

\-----

Lying in post coital bliss later Charlotte ran her fingers through her lovers springy, curly hair

“Well, you going to fill me in on what that was all about? And what’s this about saving his life, you never mentioned anything before. Was it the ambush you told me about?”

“Not really, but it was connected”

“Remember I told you about Will Shepherd who saved our bacon when we were ambushed”

Charlotte snuggled up to him and nodded

“Well the day after Rich and I had to go off & investigate a KIA, it was Will Shepherd. I was just fixing up with Rich to go Yorkshire for a couple of days to visit his widow, we both owe our lives to him so I think it’s the least we can do”

“That’s lovely Bluey, Reza can..”

“Thanks love but I think it’s something the Rich & I need to do alone, plus sharing a car with an Iraqi isn’t a very good idea really given where we’re going”

“OK, why does Richard think you saved his life?”

Strike took a deep breath and dived in, clarifying the true facts of what had happened, explaining how he’d heard Will talking to him, and telling him about the IED and dragging Richard out of the front of the Viking just in time, explaining why his nickname was Mystic Bob

Charlotte was sitting up looking at him with staring eyes, looking increasingly horrified as she processed what she’d been told

“Oh Bluey, we need to get you to a Psychiatrist as soon as we can”


End file.
